Walk the Line
by onelildustbunni
Summary: AU. Dystopia. X-23 reminisces on the events leading up to the end of the world, to a special, unlikely audience. Hellion & X-23.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Walk the Line  
><strong>Universe: <strong>AU  
><strong>Type: <strong>Dystopic  
><strong>Pairing: <strong>Hellion/X-23

_**SUMMARY: **_AU. X-23 reminisces on the events leading up to the end of the world, to a special, unlikely audience. Hellion & X-23.

_**Inspired by the song 'I Walk The Line' by Johnny Cash**_

* * *

><p><strong>I Walk the Line- Johnny Cash<strong>

_I keep a close watch on this heart of mine.  
>I keep my eyes wide open all the time.<br>I keep the ends out for the tie that binds.  
>Because you're mine, I walk the line.<em>

I find it very, very easy to be true.  
>I find myself alone when each day is through.<br>Yes, I'll admit that I'm a fool for you.  
>Because you're mine, I walk the line.<p>

As sure as night is dark and day is light.  
>I keep you on my mind both day and night.<br>And happiness I've known proves that it's right  
>Because you're mine, I walk the line.<p>

You've got a way to keep me on your side.  
>You give me cause for love that I can't hide.<br>For you I know I'd even try to turn the tide.  
>Because you're mine, I walk the line.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Now.<strong>_  
><strong><br>**"Be quiet," she mouths, pressing her hand on the little girl's shoulder, her eyes wide, her ears tuned to a far-off noise that means _danger._ Her face is pale, as is the skin over her knuckles and between them. She is fighting the urge to eject her claws.

Two sets of keen eyes gaze down the darkened alleyway. Except for those eyes, mother and daughter are almost identical; the same cast to the features on their heart shaped faces-thick eyelashes rimming the eyes, brows arched high, straight, perfect noses, full lips, and high cheekbones; the same pale, flawless pallor to their skin; the same long, glossy black hair. The same brilliant intelligence.

But the woman's eyes are a bright, vibrant green; while the child's eyes are a medium blue color.

"They are passing," the older woman mouths, finally. The girl relaxes, but frowns.

"Who where they, mum?"

The woman feels the same moment of wonder that she feels every time she hears this word. It certainly hadn't been _her_ to teach the child this; the child's father had been responsible for the term. She debates: did she ever address Sarah with this title?

No.

She crouches, looks the child in her eyes. "People who mean us harm," she says firmly.

"Okay," the child says, trustfully. The mother wonders how she has managed this-this trust. When she had been young herself, she had trusted no one. Not even _her _parent, since she was often cruel, out of necessity. She knows that she is therefore considered different from many other mutants-a freak amongst freaks, so to speak. She has been told before just how strange she is.

And yet the child seems, miraculously, to be oblivious to this. How could she teach anyone to be normal when she had no sense of normalcy herself?

"Can we eat soon? I'm hungry," the child says. Her small stomach rumbles, to back this up.

She allows herself to smile slightly, even though their circumstances cause her no end of worry. "Yes," she says. "I will find us something soon. I promise." She smoothes a strand of hair out of her daughter's pale, dirt-and-blood smudged face, then kisses her forehead. Why does she do this? Her own parent used to do this to her, when she could show her feelings. She believes it is a way of showing affection.

The woman stands again, and the child takes her hand as they head down the dark, dirty alleyway, their bare feet occasionally making sounds on the wet asphalt.

Later that night, they find shelter in the ruins of a building. The woman builds a small fire for them, and they cook a tin of beans and a pigeon. They don't usually eat meat, as it is hard to come by.

"Mum?" the child asks suddenly, through a mouthful of beans.

The woman tilts her head and waits.

"Why did we leave dad?"

She inhales sharply. The woman has had ample time to dwell over how to answer this question. So simple and yet so...unsettling. She feels pain, almost physical pain. The events had happened about four years ago…four long years ago.

"He did not have our healing factor," she says, gently.

"I know that," the child says dismissively.

"He was hurt, very severely. We were pursued. You were small. I had to take care of you." The woman pauses. "I made a choice."

The child swallows the beans. "I wish he was still here."

She doesn't answer, closes her eyes, but her face doesn't crumple like it had for a few days after that incident. Her instincts to protect and care for her child were too strong to allow her such moments of weakness.

After eating, the child drifts off to sleep. She does not feel comfortable enough to follow her example; instead she pulls the child's head onto her lap, strokes the tangled black hair and stares into the fire as she remains on the alert. She can't help thinking, however. Remembering.

"Mum?" a voice asks, about an hour later. The child is stirring. She looks down at her daughter and feels a gentle tug in her chest.

"Tell me about dad," the child whispers.

Laura blinks. She is about to say no; then she realizes it is the girl's right to know about the man she'd come from. Memories jump to light, some inappropriate. She does not want to tell her daughter—her innocent child—about the violence, about some of the moments she feels were to be experienced only by her and the other person involved.

But she can modify it slightly.

She closes her eyes and begins.

**...**

_Memory sequence 1  
>Hellfire Club, World's End Tavern<br>New York City  
>Six years ago<br>22:54 April 6_

She sits at the bar on a stool, her head tilted slightly, her forehead resting gently on her knuckles. She is weary after a long week of assassinations, terrorism and torturing for information.

For a long while-since her creation-she has been a force of destruction. A weapon. She is used to being the cause of death, even on greater scales than she has been of late. But then, then-she'd had no _choice. _She had been a weapon sitting in a cage. The difference is, _now_she's supposed to be an 'independent, free-thinking woman with choices', as was told to her by her commander when she had agreed to all of this.

The truth is, she is still a weapon in a cage. The only change is that the cage is invisible. The literal bars have become figurative ones, but they are bars all the same.

"Refill?" the bartender asks, nodding in her direction.

"Please." Her voice is low-pitched, smooth, and tired (despite her healing factor). She's been yelling all day at a prisoner. Interrogating.

_Clunk. _The glass of whiskey sloshes around on the counter between her elbows. She watches it dully. Life was hardly what she had imagined it might be like outside the Facility Cell. Here she is-about twenty-three years old by her calculations-her only accomplishments being trading one handler for another. Where is the independence she'd thought she would have, the understanding of people?

She still doesn't have this, after ten years outside her Cell. She is no closer to understanding human behavior than she had been as a weapon. The people in her organization shun her-call her a freak. And they are supposed to be freaks themselves. She has a sense that this implies she is too detached for even them, too abnormal.

Footsteps, approaching the bar. "This seat taken?"

She doesn't answer. _Creak, _as the seat is occupied.

Wrapping her fingers around her glass, she downs the whiskey in one shot and is rewarded with a quick burning in her throat, warmth in her stomach, and a slight blurring of her vision. Then it's gone, scrubbed away by her healing factor.

She wishes it would scrub away more than that. She wishes she could take some sort of shower that would wash her clean of all the confusion, the disappointment that life is so difficult...that she could be thirteen years of age again, feeling the adrenaline surging through her system as she escapes the facility.

With a small exhalation through her mouth, she looks down.

"Come here often?"

She tilts her head slightly to her other side, takes in her uninvited neighbor. He's about her age, maybe a bit older; dark hair, blue eyes, medium build. He is leaning on his elbow and studying her with something akin to appreciation. She's seen this look many times before, knows what it means. Only in the last three years has she begun reacting when she feels responses, and sometimes she still accepts payment.

She wrinkles her nose.

"Occasionally." She eyes him warily now. She knows all the members of the Brotherhood; even the new recruits, and this is a mutant bar. He is not on _her_ side. Fraternizing is not encouraged. Is he a spy?

"Just when you're depressed, right?" He grins at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Or should I assume you're here for the view?"

He gestures, with his free hand, to the girls dancing on the stage behind them. She closes her eyes, mildly irritated. She knows what he is insinuating; it's hardly an original comment.

_Creak, _as he leans a bit closer. "I'm surprised they haven't asked you to leave."

"What?" She opens her eyes again and focuses on him.

"You're bad for business." He pauses. "I can't take my eyes off you...even though you're fully clothed."

She decides she is annoyed. "Please, go away."

"It's true. I haven't looked away since the first glance." _Creak, _as he leans back. "You're beautiful...and you look so sad, you just broke my heart right away." He puts a hand on his chest.

"Left," she says, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

"Huh?" he asks.

"Your heart is more to the left side of your upper torso."

He is about to respond when the bartender returns. "What'll you have?" the man asks her neighbor, drumming his blunt fingers on the counter surface.

"Samuel Addams, an Irish car bomb, and whatever my lady friend here has been drowning her sorrows in...some more of that," he says, reaching out and patting her shoulder. "And keep them coming."

She looks at his hand on her skin, and realizes there are two direct pathways from a choice she is about to make: either she will hit him, as hard as she can in the face and he will stop bothering her; or she will let him continue touching her, which will mean prolonged association.

She's had a bad day.

_**POW!**_

Her fist comes out of nowhere and catches him midway between his nose and his mouth; his head snaps back from the unexpected force.

"_**HEY!**__ Hey! _Guys, play nice," the bartender snaps as he thumps the glasses down on the table.

Her neighbor corrects himself on his seat and touches his lip, which is starting to swell slightly. "…what the fuck?" he asks her, his eyes full of astonishment.

"I have had a bad day, and my patience is short. I do not want to be touched," she says, picking up the drink and chugging it down. Perhaps she should leave, before he retaliates and makes her unwelcome at this bar for good.

"Okay, my bad," he says, to her surprise. "I'm sorry."

She pauses. "It's fine."

He extends a hand to her. "Julian, by the way. Julian Keller. I'm an X-man."

"I'm aware," she says flatly, giving him a quick returning shake.

"How?" he asks, surprised. "There's no way we've met. I'd remember you. Although, the X-side _is_ getting pretty big, and-"

"I am a member of the Brotherhood," she says.

"Oh, shit." His forehead wrinkles. "Why would a number one like yourself pick the losing team?"

"That is your opinion." She arches her eyebrows.

"I'm _always _right, about _everything,_" he says confidently. "My opinions are bonafide facts."

Despite herself, she smiles slightly.

"Fuck," he says softly, staring at her like he is...worshipping, she thinks. She has seen the expression of reverence before, on those kneeling before alters. "Your power must be to kill with a smile, 'coz I'm about to have a heart attack over here," he says after a few moments.

"Your heart is fine," she says, although the smile remains. "It has increased by approximately ten beats per minute, due to-" she stops, and she feels embarrassment and surprise. He is 'responding', as she thinks of male arousal, and this is not as per usual because no clothing has been removed.

"How can you tell?"

"I have enhanced senses and some medical knowledge." She usually doesn't share this information with others, but she doubts she will see him again, or that anyone will know who she is by a few descriptions alone. The Brotherhood is a massive force and she usually stays in the shadows of the operation.

"God, you're smart too," he says, leaning his head against his hands. "So...be level with me. What do I need to do?"

"For what?"

"Your name, for a start."

"Laura." The bartender places another whiskey in front of her.

"Okay, so nice to meet you, Laura. _Really_ nice to meet you." He grins, even with his slightly swollen lip. "My friends are never going to believe that the first angel I've met is called _Laura._ You can get me into heaven, right?"

"You cannot tell anyone you have met me," Laura says seriously. She looks at her drink. "And no, I cannot assist you with spiritual experiences. I have yet to have one myself."

Fingers, touching her cheek. She whirls towards him, drawing her fist back to plow it in, but she stops to watch his expression as he feels her skin. The playfulness that has been present in his comments and behavior is not apparent now. He looks entirely serious.

"Stop," she murmurs, wrapping her fingers around his wrist and pulling it away. "We can't be seen talking to each other...and touching. It is not appropriate."

He freezes, then reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet.

"How much for both our tonight's tabs?" he asks the bartender.

"I am not done," Laura protests.

"Hers is one fifteen, yours is twelve."

Julian pauses, eyes her. He is amazed that she appears to be completely sober. Then he takes out two, crisp hundred-dollar bills and lays them on the table.

"Keep the change," he says.

Laura stares. Money is hard to come by these days.

"Done?" he asks her hopefully.

She nods mutely, and allows him to take her by the arm. She is led to the door; he disappears for a moment to a side room, and returns with their coats. Laura watches him drop his on the floor, and wonders if he is possibly drunk. Then he touches her arms; and puts on her coat for her.

Laura fingers the edge of her jacket and bites her lip slightly.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Thanks for the great reviews! Hope you all continue to enjoy :o) Also, please note that I have used Google translate to obtain the Japanese in this section. If it's entirely nonsensical, I apologize (I realize how notoriously traitorous internet translators can be...lol)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Now.<br>**_**  
><strong>Laura jolts awake, her heart pounding hard in her chest. She's fallen asleep, on watch; the child is no longer curled up by her side. She hears her moving about, and relaxes slightly.

"Where are you?" she calls.

"Here, mum." The girl is crouching in the rubble, brushing her fingers through pieces of wood. "I smelled some food. I can't find it, though."

"It may have been the wind." Laura nudges at the ruins with her boot. A board flips over to reveal a pile of mini chocolate bars, still in their wrappers.

"Oh, mum! Look!" Her daughter begins to gather the chocolates in her shirt, holding up the hem as a makeshift basket. Laura smiles slightly.

Later they break camp and get back onto the road, weaving their way through the parked cars, some still filled with drivers at the wheel. They are badly decomposing, and to a nose with an enhanced sense of smell, it would be maddening.

Instead, their ability to scent has become less acute, more easily muddled. Laura is grateful for this; otherwise she wouldn't keep any food down, and their finds would be wasted.

"I can't believe you punched dad in the face when you met him," The girl says, her eyes twinkling. "That's funny."

Laura smiles slightly. She has photographic memory, and can recite every detail of an event. She was trained to do so for missions; but the talent has another use now: entertaining her daughter...and allowing her to relive memories with an accuracy that another person could not.

"Tell me more, mum," the girl asks.

**...**

_Memory sequence 1  
>Interstate 80<br>New York City  
>Six years ago<br>23:39 April 6_

Laura leans forward on the gleaming yellow Harley, her hair whipping out from beneath her helmet like a black cloud. Her thighs grip the bike tightly, and her body shifts are instinctive. She is an expert bike rider; and so, apparently, is her companion. His arms are wrapped tightly around her waist, he leans into the turns with her, and never seems to interfere with the bike's balance.

She weaves in traffic. She is surprisingly eager to reach the hotel they are heading to, at which he apparently has a room. The more she had learned about his personality, the more appealing he had begun to seem. And now...she can hardly wait to see what he's like, in other regards. It's like he's selling her a car, and she's about to take it for a test drive.

They turn off the interstate, and soon pull into the hotel parking lot. She is relieved to see the rooms have separate entrances. Not like anyone here would recognize her, but her desire for privacy, her tendency to secrecy-is a force of habit in her line of work. He gets off the bike and begins to pull out the keycards; meanwhile she turns the vehicle off, sweeps the kickstand out, and locks the bike before getting off, her boots crunching in the gravel of the parking lot. She fingers her helmet, watching his shoulders as he unlocks the door.

_Squeak, _the door opens with a noise audible only to Laura's finely tuned ears. He enters, leaving it open behind himself.

She hesitates. Does she really want to do this?

She thinks of her mood at the bar, and the thought of earlier. That she is still in her cell, but now she is standing here and the door to the hotel room seems strangely like the door to her prison.

"You coming?" He reappears at the door, having removed his shirt, and his fingers are at his belt.

She tilts her head as she studies his lines. He is not just fit, he is _built, _and better than many men she has allowed to share her presence. _Crunch, _Laura's helmet hits the gravel and she flushes in embarrassment.

He grins at her somewhat lopsidedly. "I have some other stuff to show you, if you want to join me."

Laura says nothing. She picks up her helmet and puts it in the storage compartment, mentally berating herself. She doesn't show attraction like that; it's against her policies. _Never give the target the advantage, never display emotion or reaction. Keep them off balance. _Ten-year old Laura gazes up at her trainer, a gruff, older man with blazing brown eyes and a thick grey mustache to compensate for his balding head. A former S.W.A.T. and S.H.I.E.L.D field commander.

The cage is around her again, and she looks at the doorway again, at the man waiting for her reaction.

She decides she will give one, for once. Try out her freedom.

_Why not. _

She crosses the gravel expanse slowly and reaches the door, looks up slightly at him. He is taller, by about seven inches, even with her boots on.

"Did I take too long to get undressed?" he asks.

"What?" Laura asks.

"You seem like you're having second thoughts."

"No." Laura reaches out and lays her hand against his stomach, feels the muscles stiffen slightly. His body is warm, and his scent suddenly attracts her attention; only faint traces of his cologne and other products remain, telling her that he had gotten dressed much earlier that morning. His smell is mostly his own unique chemical make up, but the point that interests Laura is that she has begun to tingle in response. He smells better than most men she has coupled with in the past, and she realizes that is because of his fitness level; he is healthy and active, hence his scent is correspondingly less offensive.

Unconsciously, Laura sways closer and smells the hollow of his throat, her lips parted.

"Whoa...what are you _doing?" _he asks, taking her by the shoulders. She flinches slightly and her cheeks redden again, in shame; she bites her lip. How does she explain this?

"I was smelling you," she says.

"Smelling me?" he echoes.

"Yes."

"That's kind of hot," he says, after a few moments. He leans closer, their lips meet and Laura finds herself wondering why she took so long to decide to go along with him. Her eyes slide shut. Their hands are everywhere at once.

_**Ca-click.**_

Laura jumps and pulls away, eyes wide, breathing hard. "What was that?" she asks. His hands have not moved from her body (one on her behind, the other on her jaw), and she had detected no other living beings for a fair distance away. There is no wind; and yet the door has just closed by itself.

Julian grins again and nudges her slightly, into the room, against the edge of the bed.

She catches her breath as her jacket peels off her shoulders of its own accord, surrounded by soft green light, as if lit from within.

"You're a telekinetic," she says instantly.

"Maybe."

Her belt is unfastened, and snakes through the loopholes; the button and zipper to her jeans are undone and then her pants crumple around her ankles; her tank top rolls up her stomach and over her head, and then he stops suddenly.

"You're not wearing a bra?" he asks.

"No." Laura is used to some surprise over this fact. She doesn't bother explaining that years of training to the point of physical perfection have strengthened her chest muscles to the point that she does not require a garment for support.

He approaches her almost cautiously, his expression strange. "How are you so perfect?" he asks.

"I am not perfect," Laura says, not meeting his eyes. "I have many flaws." They'd been rubbed in her face every day of her young life at the facility, and will stay with her always.

"Name one."

Laura breathes in, with a soft _ehn _sound. She had not expected to be asked. To hear her own voice describing her faults. To acknowledge them.

"I am weak. Stupid." She hears herself say. "My reactions are slow. I am uncoordinated. I am too emotional. My attention span is-"

"Who the hell told you this stuff?" He's standing in front of her now, his hand hovering in the air near her collarbone, like he's afraid to touch.

"I...prefer not to say," Laura murmurs, looking down.

"You can't seriously _believe_ any of that." He sounds so confused that she doubts her own belief, for a moment. "You're the most perfect woman I've ever met. As in...I'm kind of wondering if this is a dream and I'm going to wake up to a mess."

Laura smiles slightly. He touches her again, then takes her face in his hands and kisses her again, deeply, and she feels him backing her into the edge of the bed.

**...**

_**Now.**_

Laura studies the matchbook that has sat in her pocket. _Traveler's Inn, _the faded print says. There's a phone number below, even more worn away. The matches inside are long since gone, but that's not why she's kept the book. She smiles slightly at the memory it invokes. She'd grabbed the book off the dresser when she'd left the hotel, not knowing the reason, not really understanding the concept of a souvenir; now she does. Now that she has need.

"What's that, mum?" The child asks, from the makeshift shade of the car hood propped on a long metal rod. The sun burns far too hotly in the sky; unnaturally. The atmosphere was damaged in what Julian had cheerfully termed 'the apocalypse'.

"A memory." Laura holds it out to the girl. "This is where you were conceived." No need to explain what this means; Emma is already well rehearsed in anatomy and the technical mechanics of human behavior, including intercourse. Laura had been concerned that her child would understand what it all meant, if they ever met other people. Concerned that she would not have the struggle that _she _did.

The girl takes the matchbook cover and studies it, her features devoid of expression, much like Laura's when she is concentrating.

She rubs her fingers over the faded print. She looks up, and looks sad. Not with her features, which are still motionless. She inherited her father's expressive eyes; Laura can detect her emotional state without seeing the rest of her face.

"Do you miss dad?" she asks.

Laura nods. "But you are here. He is a part of you."

Her daughter hands back the matchbook. "Yes, mum," she says simply. "Are we going to start walking again?"

"When the sun sets. We have a long way to go." Laura peers up at the glaring sun. They are walking to the nearest air force base; from there, they will fly at night, as far South as possible. Since the atmosphere is bad-and worst here-they will head in the direction with the least exposure to the sun, the area where it will be winter right now.

Perhaps there will be other survivors.

"More, mum," the girl says. "I want to hear more. What happened next?"

**...**

_Memory sequence 2  
>Main Lobby, Hyatt Regency<br>Kyoto, Japan  
>Six years ago<br>21:23 June 10  
><em>

Laura exits the revolving door and takes in the surroundings she has entered: expensive hardwoods, luxury carpeting, smells of cleaning fluids and public places. The glimmer of the massive chandelier on the ceiling catches her attention next. Images of its tactical uses almost cloud her vision, but she pushes them aside. It is doubtful that she will be engaged in combat at this hotel.

She re-shoulders her duffle bag, and makes her way to the counter, her lips curving up in a smile at the clerk, who has just greeted her in Japanese.

"Gashi," Laura replies. _Greetings._

" Anata ga nihongo o hanasu?" _You speak Japanese?_

"Hai." _Yes. _

The clerk smiles. " Rifuresshu. Dono yō ni kyō wa anata o tasukete mo yoi ka?." _Refreshing. How may I help you today?  
><em>  
>" Watashi wa heya no tame no kibō-" <em>I would like a room for-<em>she pauses, her nostrils filling with a scent; footsteps, louder than those passing in the background.

"Laura?"

She freezes. Her cover is blown, she thinks absently. She cannot present her false I.D. now. That, however, is the least of her concerns. She turns her head slightly, and blinks.

"It _is _you," he says, his features breaking into an easy, relaxed grin that focuses mostly in and around his eyes. Laura swallows. "Sumimasen." _Excuse me. _She turns to face him fully, uncertain of how to act. Will he see it in her face? "How did you know?" she asks.

"I'd know that perfect ass of yours anywhere," he says teasingly. "What brings you to Japan?"

"Tourism," she answers automatically.

"Oh." Julian looks down for a moment. He knows what she really means. She's here with the Brotherhood, and she can't tell him, because now he will know there is going to be an attack on Japan.

"Why are you here?" Laura asks.

"Tourism," he replies.

_They already know. _Laura arches her eyebrows. Someone inside the Brotherhood must be leaking information; a double agent.

"Kyoto has many sights," she says. "It is an ancient city, once the capital of Japan."

"I like what I see already," Julian says, his eyes on her. She feels her cheeks redden slightly, and a vague annoyance that he can turn just about anything she says into a pick-up line.

"Do not allow me to interrupt your tour," Laura says pointedly. Her fingers find the edge of one of the elaborate wooden carvings on the counter behind her, and grip it tightly. She feels the information bubbling to her lips, something that she does not want to acknowledge.

"You're part of it," he says, reaching out and touching her cheek with the back of his finger. Laura horrifies herself by closing her eyes and leaning into his touch, like an animal being petted.

Her eyes fly open almost immediately. "I have an engagement. I-I do not have time for this. Please-"

"Later tonight, then?" he asks. "Hey, I have a great idea! Stay in my room...you'll save a bundle."

"No-" Laura says.

"Oh come on, it's a great idea. I'll even get room service." He fumbles in his coat pocket and pulls out a room key, holds it out to her. "Room 402."

"Julian, I-I can't," Laura says, almost pleadingly. "Please leave me alone."

"So you have regrets?" he asks bluntly.

"N-no-" Laura finds herself-usually the interrogator-stammering. She's shaken, deeply, because dread of a confrontation has been at the forefront of her nightmares for quite a while now.

"Then don't waste time." He shakes the card slightly, in front of her face. "Look. This is your ticket to free room, free food, and the kind of worshiping your body _deserves, _on a regular basis. Don't deny it."

"I can't," Laura says, a little more firmly.

"You don't want me?"

"I didn't say-"

Julian reaches over and tucks the card into the convenient chest pocket of her leather bomber jacket.

"There. Decision made. Look, I've got some stuff to do...I was just on my way out. I'll be back in about two hours, make yourself comfortable." He leans over and kisses her, and Laura gives up, feeling she has no choice in the matter. It's her attraction to him that complicates the simple matter of saying _no._

He leaves, and the clerk asks, "Madamu?" _Madame?_

" Mōshiwake arimasenga, watashi wa mō heya o hitsuyō to suru." _I am sorry, but I no longer need a room. _" Okage de, yoi ichi-nichi o sugosu." _Thanks and have a good day._

Ignoring the clerk's surprised expression, Laura heads for the elevator, her fingers withdrawing the card from her breast pocket. Maybe it's just as well.

**...**

Footsteps, in the hall. Laura raises her eyes and looks at the door, her nostrils flaring. She's already showered and washed all of the travel grime from her skin and hair (which is still damp and curly); she is now wearing a terry bathrobe, provided by the hotel. She is laying on her stomach, watching TV.

The door buzzes, as it is unlocked; it swings open and Julian enters. "Awesome," he says under his breath, to himself, then catches sight of her and drops the bag he's holding. It hits the carpet with a squishy _thud_, and Laura cranes her neck. The door closes automatically behind him.

"Are you alright?" she asks in concern.

"Uh...yeah. Yeah, I am." He blinks, recovers. "I wasn't ready to see an angel in my bed. You look smoking hot with your hair like that."

Laura sighs slightly, annoyed. She sits up, hugging her knees. "You have brought food?" she asks, to change the subject.

"Sushi and Teriyaki stuff," he says, picking up the bag with his mind. "And Tempura. Damn, you look good. Skip dinner?"

"I am hungry." Laura tilts her head, hearing her stomach rumble.

"Sorry, didn't mean to be rude," he says, moving to the edge of the bed. "You flew in today?"

Laura nods.

"You must be tired then, too," he says, absently, as he sits on the edge of the bed. Laura reaches for the bag, her nose filling with delectable odors.

"Yes, I am."

He looks put out. "Am I going to wake up with you this time?" He asks. "I was really bummed when you ditched me, you know, before. You broke my heart."

Laura had gotten up at five in the morning and had left without a trace on their first encounter.

She says nothing, gives him a dry look.

"You did. The only thing that would have been better than that night, in the whole world, would have been waking up with you too." He grins. "I had a present for you. I made it myself."

"Just stop talking," Laura says, irritated to the extreme of expressing her displeasure.

"Sorry." He swallows, looks at her. "I can't help it. You're, well...you make me feel like if I don't impress you, I won't stand a chance. And I really, really want a chance."

"Just be yourself," Laura advises, finding it strange that she is giving advice to another living being about _behavior, _a subject that is a complete and utter mystery to her.

"I'll try...but I'm afraid you won't like me." Julian reaches into the bag. "I'm not as perfect as you are."

"I am not perfect," Laura reiterates.

"You goddamn _are._" He pops the lid off a sauce container. "So what are you planning to see in Kyoto?"

The abrupt change in the conversation topic makes Laura blink in confusion. "Just...general sightseeing, if I have time," she says.

"If you have time?" he parrots.

She nods, her eyes telling him more than she can in a verbal sense.

**...**

Laura lays her head back on the pillow, her eyes closed as his fingers work at the knot in the robe, her hands at his belt buckle. She barely breathes as she feels the edges of her garment part...and hears the silence that accompanies the revealing.

_Like the unveiling of a controversial piece of art, _she thinks. She's been to gallery openings before, on jobs.

The silence holds.

She says nothing, takes a deeper breath, swallows. His fingers brush her slightly distended stomach, almost fearfully, as if it will burst if he touches her; then a little more substantially. And then-the reaction least expected-he leans forward and brushes it with his lips, near her navel.

Accepting it.

They don't speak till later.

**...**

"I found out two months ago," Laura whispers, about an hour later, her eyes closed.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He hesitates. "It's mine, right?"

"Yes." She pauses. "I didn't know how to contact you."

Julian falls silent, reaches up and brushes his hand through his hair.

"I am going to keep it," Laura says warily. She'd imagined all sorts of responses. On finding out about her condition, she had done a lot of research about surprise pregnancies, and had read websites forewarning her about being pressured into giving the infant up. For some reason, she wants it; the devastating moment of realizing she was pregnant had come with two facts. _I am having an offspring, and I am keeping it. _An absurd thought, given the world she lives in; utterly not the conditions to raise an infant in. Yet...it is like an unalterable fact, that she will keep it.

Does she feel this will give meaning to her life?

"I'd hope so," Julian says. "I mean-it's your choice-but..." he hesitates. "This is going to sound terrible."

"What?" Laura asks impatiently.

"Does this make my chances with you better?"

She blinks. "'Chances'?" she repeats.

"I want to be with you," he says, in a voice barely above a whisper. "You know. More than this."

"'This'?" Laura asks.

He grins slightly. "Occasional fuck buddies." He pauses. "I can't stop thinking about you. You're seriously driving me crazy. I-"

"We can't," Laura says. "Our alliances-"

"Fuck our alliances. I want it, and I usually _get_ what I want." He sits up slightly and kisses her shoulder. "We'll work it out. Everything will work out, you'll see."

"No."

Laura's firm voice, the stern look in her eyes, seem to bring the gravity of the situation to light.

He sighs, rearranging his arms behind his head and looking away. They fall silent, except for the sound of breathing. Laura gets up, moves to the chair and unzips her duffel bag.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"Leaving. I will get my own room, somewhere else. It's for the best."

"No!" He sits up. "Laura...you can't just _go_. I'll never be at peace with myself."

"That is your problem." Laura pulls on a pair of plain cotton underwear and looks at her duffel bag, wishing it could reassure her that she is doing the right thing.

"It's your problem too. You want to bring up that kid in a broken home? Not knowing your father can cause issues, Laura."

"Sometimes it's better not to know," Laura says softly, remembering her father figure. _Wolverine. _The way he'd spurned her, for what she was. For doing the only thing natural to her: killing. Her grip tightens on the t-shirt she is holding now. "This is the right thing to do. Please, do not make it harder."

"You're being unreasonable. You tell me this and expect me to stay away?"

"Telling you was a mistake." She pulls on her t-shirt. "All of this was a mistake. Please forget what we've done."

Silence. Laura selects a pair of jeans, pulls them up quickly and fastens them; puts on her jacket, then zips up her duffel bag and shoulders it. "Goodbye, Julian." She reaches the door, hesitates, her door on the handle.

"Please take care of yourself."

He takes a deep breath. "How can you even say that?"

Laura looks down, digs in her jacket pocket, and drops the card on the floor. The door clicks softly behind her as she walks down the hall, her facial expression neutral.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Thanks for all the reviews! :o)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3<br>**

_**Now.**_

__"But that wasn't it, right?" The girl demands. "Right, mum?"

Laura smiles slightly. "Yes," she says.

"Tell me!" her daughter demands.

"Later. We need to find shelter...and I need to concentrate. The sun will be up soon." Laura sniffs the air, seeing that they are approaching another enormous cluster of vehicles on the road. The tires are melted slightly into the asphalt from the heat of day after day of harmful sun exposure.

She wipes the perspiration from her brow. The traffic jams are difficult. To go around them would be too time consuming; but to pass through a field of corpses...even for her, who is no stranger to death-this is not an easy task, and it is made harder by seeing the child's reaction.

"Remember...they felt nothing." Laura is not absolutely certain of this, but the child does not like seeing the dead bodies. Like Julian, she is affected deeply by death; and Laura cares about how _she _feels. This much she is certain of.

The girl nods, reaches for her hand.

Taking a deep breath, they move forward. Buzzing sounds begin to fill their ears; it is impossible not to glance at the cars, at the blurs of motion inside. Flies coat the dashboards. Heads, with hair still attached, lean against the glass of the windows. The rest of the bodies are not so intact, and the pungent odors of decay seep outside the car doors.

It would smell a thousand times worse inside. Laura kneels and picks the girl up. "Close your eyes," she whispers. She doesn't want her daughter to see the children she has just spotted.

She knows that the child dreams about the things she sees, and the less she is exposed to, the better.

**...**

"Is dad one of them?" The girl asks later, in the morning, as they are setting up camp in what was once a store front, Laura having moved the corpses to a back room.

"One of who?"

"The corpses," the child mumbles.

"No." _Yes, _Laura thinks, her chest tight. She'd had to leave, on his insistence. There had been no choice; still the decision weighs heavily on her shoulders.

"Oh." The girl doesn't question her more, and Laura is grateful.

They eat some of the chocolates her child had found earlier, having uncovered nothing else since. Laura hopes there is more food down South-perhaps even survivors. She wishes that there are, that she and her miracle child will be in time to preserve some of the life.

The lack of human contact is harder than she'd first thought it would be.

The child draws her knees up to her chest. "I want to hear more," she says.

**...**

_Memory sequence 3  
>Times Square<br>Manhattan, New York  
>Six years ago<br>08:22 August 9_

"Thank you for coming, pet," the older man says, smiling. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and his voice is deep and charismatic, accentuated with a European pronunciation.

"It is not my choice," Laura says. She looks down at her stomach, which seems huge now, at only five months. She wonders if she will deliver sooner than expected. She knows she is here because Magneto is angry about the pregnancy. His best assassin, one he views as a daughter, tainted by some unidentified man on the street. If he knew the parentage, he would be even more furious.

"You are starting to show, my dear," Magneto says, still smiling, but not with his eyes. "I am certain you will be a fine mother, and that your child will be very powerful indeed." _If it's not a mutant, I'll eliminate it with the rest. You as well._

"Thank you," Laura says uneasily, her hand unconsciously forming a fist. She forces herself to relax.

_Everything will be fine. _

She tenses again. "I hear them."

Magneto turns in the direction she is looking, but unlike her reaction-widened eyes, slightly parted lips-he does not look surprised. "Ah, my dear Charles," he says, seeing the man in the wheelchair approaching-accompanied by three of his students, all wearing colorful uniforms that belay the seriousness of the situation. A girl with an almost comical shock of blue hair (and make up to match), another female, attractive and normal in every way except for the streak of white in her hair. The third of Xavier's bodyguards is Julian, who is dressed in a bright red outfit, with black designs. He stares at Laura unabashedly, obviously sharing her surprise.

Magneto notes this, and is watching her out of the corner of his eye. His expression does not change, but Laura is certain he has figured out the connection. She closes her eyes, wonders what the repercussions will be.

"Erik," Charles Xavier says, in his grave, serious way. "How are you?"

"Why would you ask me?" Magneto smiles slowly, and taps his helmet. "Ah."

Xavier smiles grimly. "I never cease to be surprised at how much you distrust me, Erik. Have I ever given you reason to doubt me?"

"I wouldn't know if you had," Magneto says.

"It violates your stance on mutants," Xavier says calmly, sadly. "That we should be free to celebrate our powers. Do you wear that helmet all the time, or only around me?"

"I am to be the leader of the New Order," Magneto says confidently. "Exceptions will be made, where necessary. But surely you did not come to discuss my helmet?"

Laura has shifted her gaze to Julian's companions. She cannot look away; she is here to protect the leader, and she will do her job no matter what distractions may be present. She studies the woman with the white streak in her hair. She, too, has green eyes; they stare back at her steadily, warily. Laura wonders what her power is, what she's called.

Now her eyes slip to the blue-haired girl. Judging from her black eyebrows, this is not her natural hair color. She gives her a belligerent look back, and straightens her posture, her hands forming fists. Sparks of electricity orbit around her knuckles, betraying her power.

Laura knows she could defeat all three of Xavier's bodyguard in the blink of an eye. Well, Julian might be a problem; he can simply shield himself, or keep her away. She tilts her head and allows herself a glance in his direction. Magneto may know the connection, but she doesn't want Xavier to catch on, or any of his other bodyguards. She feels her throat tighten and realizes she can smell him as though they were pressed against each other, instead of ten feet away, separated by impending war.

Her sense of smell has grown even stronger, of late.

Magneto gestures to her. "Shall we sit somewhere, my dear?"

"If you wish," Laura replies. The group heads over to a picnic table at the edge of the square; Magneto sits down and pats the bench beside him. Laura complies, and the others sit on the opposite side, with Xavier on the corner.

"Erik, I've come to discuss the possibility of a peace treaty with you," Xavier says; or in Laura's opinion, blurts. "We have nothing to gain through warring with each other." He is referring to the constant clashes between the X-men and the Brotherhood. Both organizations have grown so large with the uncontrollably increasing mutant population that they have become involved in a literal war. Deaths are not uncommon, and humans sometimes get caught in the crossfire.

"On the contrary, my dear friend," Magneto says, sounding amused. "We have everything to gain. The winner shall inherit the Earth." He smiles slowly. "Your non-confrontational stance towards humans is utterly ridiculous, Charles. You know that if we do not fight back, the concentration camps will soon open. Why would you endorse that?"

"There is a peaceable solution," Charles Xavier says. "If you weren't provoking the hysteria-"

"HA!" Magneto laughs sharply, making everyone twitch. "But then, what do _you_ know, my friend? You haven't lived through Auschwitz." He bares his forearm and reveals a tattooed number.

"Erik-" Xavier says.

"Do you have anything worthwhile to discuss? My time is valuable, and I have construction to oversee. I am building a palace to take the place of the White House when it falls."

"That's insane, Erik," Xavier says.

"Come along, my dear," Magneto says to Laura. "We don't have time for feeble old cripples."

"What, are you a five-year-old?" Julian blurts.

Magneto looks his way, and Laura is afraid suddenly. She knows how violent the man's temper can be when triggered. She has simply never had to fear the consequences of his anger before; with a healing factor, she does not mind injuries, and she is too valuable for Magneto to kill over a temper tantrum.

But Julian...he's already on the man's bad side.

"A pity," Magneto says, almost to himself. "You have much talent, Hellion. Why you choose to cringe with the meek, I will never understand."

Julian looks like he's about to lose his cool. Laura thinks of a way to convey a message without speaking or alerting the others; suddenly she knows. She touches her stomach, casually, but bites her lip. The others will think she is only a concerned mother.

He sees this, and remains silent, his expression full of unreleased anger-and she sees hurt in his eyes.

Magneto turns away, twitching two fingers for Laura to follow. She nods, faintly, and follows.

**...**

_**Now.**_

"What would have happened if dad hadn't listened to you?" The child interrupts.

"Bad things." Laura rolls onto her back and stares at the ceiling. "Magneto would have believed he was punishing him for a transgression. Perhaps he would have killed him."

"Would I still have been born?"

"I don't know," Laura says. "He may have hurt me as well." She sits up, pats her lap. "Come here. I will brush your hair."

After they have been sitting for a while, with Laura running their one hairbrush through the long, tangled black strands, the child's eyes begin to close. She smiles fondly. Her daughter reminds her of a small, cuddly animal being stroked.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter ****4**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Now<strong>_

__"Wake up," Laura says softly. She looks up at the darkened sky as the little girl stirs. It is time to resume their traveling.

"My feet hurt," The child says in a small voice. "Why can't I have dad's powers? We could fly then."

"I don't know," Laura says. "Your gift is wonderful, though."

The girl nods. Her powers had manifested when she was born, amongst the horror that was raping the land. Laura had given birth in the middle of a viral apocalypse-and had found that her child was literally the cure. Having inherited genes from both of her parents, the girl's ability is to cause the production of virus antibodies on skin-to-skin contact. One day it may turn into a healing touch, like that of Julian's friend Elixir.

Unfortunately, by the time they had realized that the girl was the cure, it was too late. Everyone else was dead.

"Tell me more," Her daughter demands, after they have broken camp and are walking again.

Laura looks up at the star-studded sky, even more so now that there is little atmosphere to obstruct her view.

_Memory sequence 4  
>Alcatraz Island<br>San Fransisco, California  
>Six years ago<br>11:47 September 2_

Laura tastes the salt of the ocean with every breath, feels the breeze on her face, and shivers. She is here to kill, to fight. Normally she is not involved in conflicts, but this time Magneto is determined that the Brotherhood will not lose.

Laura is six months pregnant now, and in a constant state of discomfort. She has mild mood swings, aches, cramps, and odd cravings. She wonders if her healing factor will be enough to protect the child. Oddly enough, she is not unbalanced too severely by her stomach; the growth has slowed down slightly, and she decides she is not as large as she initially felt. She can still wear her jeans, although it looks as if she has a large potbelly.

She folds her arms and studies her companions. Toad is here, and Pyro; Jubilee and Avalanche; a quiet girl named Dust and a mouthy newcomer named Rockslide. No one uses their real names within the confines of the Brotherhood. Laura's moniker is X-23, her name from the facility in which she was created. The twenty-third attempt to clone Wolverine, as a female.

After meeting Logan...after the initial shame over his comments had burnt away...after about five years had passed, Laura had been filled with anger. Who was he to judge her, he who had known of her predicament with the facility and had done nothing?

Now she wonders: why would _anyone_ want to clone Wolverine?

She acknowledges of course, the tactical advantages, the practical reasons. But after so many years of feeling the same emotions over and over, Laura has gained a new perspective.

"Fifteen _years_," Toad is mumbling, in his slurred English accent. "Fifteen years o' slavery to th' man...and he picks a mere slip o' a girl to oversee a fight, e'en over me. A knocked up prostitute, too."

"Magneto is protecting his interests," Laura says coldly. "Fifteen years of your ineptness has proved to him that you are incompetent at battle."

_**SPLOT!**_Toad's tongue is shooting at her face; without blinking, Laura catches the end, wraps it around her wrist, and yanks it tight, her knuckle pressing against the stretched muscle.

"Try that again, and I will cut off your tongue," she warns. She has resisted the temptation to simply _do_ so, since Toad's tongue is his main weapon, and they are undermanned at the moment.

"_**EEEEEEH!**_" Toad screeches. She opens her hand suddenly, and the tongue whips out from between her fingers and slaps back into the mutant's face, knocking off his precarious perch on the rail and into the rocks below.

"_**YOU **__**BLOODY **__**CUNT!"**_Toad screams from over the edge.

"Ladies, ladies," Avalanche says. "Keep it down."

Laura looks over the rail, at the ocean, and exhales through her nose. She has less patience, of late; she often daydreams about just killing this motley crew herself and being done with it. She wonders why Magneto persists in using this pathetic excuse for an army to represent himself in battle. They are sufficient for terrorist work…but for this…

Whatever doomsday weapon he is creating must be incredibly effective.

She turns her thoughts to the impending battle. Cyclops and a select few of his men will be here soon, according to their intelligence. They weren't clear on the members of his team that he is bringing, only that he is on his way to quell the reported terrorist activity on this island.

Her ears tingle and home in on the sound of the approaching aircraft's engines. The battle will soon begin. She looks back to her teammates.

"Positions," she orders.

Magneto wants this to be a set-up , to see if they can eliminate Cyclops, the annoying general of the X-men. The double agent in Xavier's organization had leaked information about the Brotherhood members that would be present, but had excluded mention of Laura. No one in the X-men knows of her existence as an assassin anyway-except for Wolverine-so a snuff job is possible.

Laura is more than a match for anyone on the opposing side. She has doubts about the aforementioned Wolverine; but otherwise...she is Magneto's ace in the hole.

She disappears into the structure of Alcatraz, hearing the jet landing.

**...**

"What do you think you're doing?" Cyclops, directed to Toad. She hears the flesh-and-bone movements of his arms folding against his chest. The man is a master at intimidating body language. The other footsteps following him have stopped. Laura watches from the corner of the window, eyes the group. Two women, two men. A tall, dark woman with white hair-_Storm_; a blond-_Emma__ Frost-_dressed in a revealing white outfit-a metal-skinned giant that Laura recognizes as _Colossus_, and...

"None o' yer god-damned business, mate," Toad replies.

"It is our business when innocent civilians get involved," Cyclops says. "I hear you've got ten people roped up in that there building."

"Scott..." the blond is touching his shoulder. "I don't-"

Laura has rotated so her back is against the wall, beside the window. Her heart pounds in her chest; she certainly hadn't thought that Julian would be accompanying the more senior members of their opponents. She cringes inwardly, looks down at her knuckles.

_Kill__ them __all,_Magneto had instructed her, touching her chin and smiling. _My __blood thirsty __pet. __Bring __me__ their __heads, __on __a __platter._

She closes her eyes, her expression strained. Magneto had _known._This was on purpose: her punishment for betraying his will. Her hands shake slightly. Either she kills them, and suffers her conscience, or she disobeys Magneto, and dies along with her offspring.

She feels a twitch in her stomach, as it moves. She knows that if she kills him, she will feel regret. There have been a few-precious few, but a few-occasions on which she had killed people she cared for. Her sensei...her mother...her cousin...her aunt...each death still haunts her. They whisper in her ears when she falls asleep, and they wander her dreams; their bluish lips ask _why?_as they lay in a puddle of blood.

Laura reaches into her pocket, feels the vial. _Trigger__ scent._It would make the killing possible, but would do nothing to alleviate the guilt.

She turns her head and peers down through the window at the street below, at the heated discussion going on between the two groups. Soon they will fight, and that is her cue.

"But you _didn't _kill dad, right?" the child asks, her eyes wide.

Laura smiles slightly. "Do you want me to continue?"

"Yes," her daughter says.

_Memory sequence 4  
>Alcatraz Island<br>San Fransisco, California  
>Six years ago<br>12:03 September 2_

_**SHATTER!**_

A multitude of heads look up, as Laura dive-bombs from the third story window and into their midst.

Chaos.

"_**SCOTT!**_" Emma Frost cries, shape shifting to a hard, glittering material: diamond.

"Who-" Cyclops, in surprise.

"She's just like-" Colossus.

_**SPLUNK!**_

"Hyurrkk," Toad says, in surprise. He slides off of her claws, and Laura looks up to face the group.

Stunned silence.

"There are five more Brotherhood members on this island, situated in strategic points...and no hostages. Your organization contains a double agent. All the individuals I will name must be killed; word of this cannot reach Magneto's ears."

Cyclops re-folds his arms. "And why are we trusting you?"

"I am defecting," Laura says. "I demand refugee protection."

Silence.

"Why do you feel you deserve this?" Emma Frost asks. "If I am placing you correctly, you are the infamous X-23."

Laura freezes. "You know of my existence?"

"Dear, I'm a telepath. How many hundreds of minds have I been accessing, only to have you shut them down permanently?" Emma looks amused. "You're a cold-blooded monster, plain and simple."

"We do not have time to debate," Laura says. "We must eliminate Magneto's presence on this island."

"_You_ have to," Cyclops says. "_We _have nothing to fear from him, nothing more than we normally do." He turns to the rest of his team. "Back to the jet, time's wasting."

Laura pales. For the first time in a long while, she has no idea what to do. She's just risked everything, and failed, completely. She stares at the retreating backs. _Human __behavior!_ The X-men are illogical; they are violating their own premise, to accept everyone who shares their views, to save those in need of saving.

Julian is still watching her, his expression grim. He still hasn't spoken.

"I am going to die," Laura says, her voice hollow. "I do not understand."

"Maybe if you weren't such a bitch, people would care," he replies. "Figures. I _knew_ you were too good to be true."

Laura glares at him. "I do what I was made to do." She feels the anger rising. He's judging her-just like Wolverine had judged her. "Perhaps I should have killed you all, like I was ordered to," she says, her fists tight.

"I guess."

"I did not want to see you die." Laura lowers her eyes. That's as close as she's going to come to admitting she cares for him; it feels appropriate that she should tell him now that death is certain.

Julian sighs. "You're killing me, smalls," he says. "If you would have listened before-"

"I would have been executed." Laura tilts her head. "If I do not bring your heads to Magneto today, I will be terminated. This is the punishment for disobeying." She pauses. "Your child will die."

He shifts. "And so you thought this was a way out."

"Yes."

Silence.

"If you come, we're not killing _anyone..._and you can't just sit back as a refuge. You'd have to earn your keep...just like we all do, Laura."

"I am not wanted."

Julian makes a dismissive noise. "I'll speak for you, if you'll agree to do things my way."

Laura hesitates, then thinks of her unborn. "Yes."

He holds out his hand; she takes it, and slowly they walk back to the jet, leaving Toad groaning on the gravel behind them.


	5. Chapter 5

****A/N: ****Dear Liu: Fuck you. Love, onelildustbunni. PS: Happy holidays everyone!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Now.<strong>_

__"Did Toad die?" The child asks, after a period of silence.

"No. If you are patient, I will tell you, later." Laura looks at the impending sunrise, frowning. "We need shelter, soon. I need to concentrate now."

"Okay," the girl says reluctantly.

She follows her mother quietly, thinking. If only she were better with her abilities, if only she had been born sooner...she could have done something. At the age of five, the child already feels responsible for the entire world around her. She hangs her head.

Laura leads her daughter through a sea of vehicles, thinking as she fans her sweaty, sun burnt face with her hand. They are about three more days away from the air force base in Dallas, Texas, after having walked in the evenings for almost a month. The loss of Julian had thrown her for a long time, but eventually she'd decided to carry out the plan they had made together, while the girl slept, one night shortly after the world had ended.

He wouldn't have wanted them to give up living.

Finally Laura stops, at the edge of the field of vehicles. The sun is approaching its zenith, and soon the heat will be completely unbearable. Bare fields on either side of them, as far as the eye can see. Laura knows they are somewhere between Tulsa and Oklahoma city. The road stretches out in front of them, bare and glistening with heat. Laura feels the asphalt sticking to her shoes.

"We'll have to take a car," she says.

Her daughter looks back at the cars, with a thrill of fear. "Mum...I can't."

"I'll clean it first."

"I can't!"

"Do you want to live?" Laura asks, a little harsher than she means to. "Do you want your father's sacrifice to be worthless?"

The girl is silent, and Laura walks back to the field of cars.

"We can drive it, as far as the road is clear, then wait for nightfall. We will make good time."

As she approaches the cars, she feels her gag reflex turn on. She ignores it and heads towards the first car, a Ford Explorer with tinted windows and only one corpse in the front seat. The flies aren't too thick, and she may be able to drive out the worst of them. She moves around to the driver's door, and opens it.

"_Hyurrkk," _she says, retching involuntarily as the full smell hits her. The smell of a rotting carcass. She closes her eyes, thinks of her daughter, and quickly extracts the body, ignoring the sensations. She is even gentle in her disposal, laying the man down instead of throwing.

After a few minutes of battling flies, Laura calls to the child to get in.

_Whumpf! _The doors shutting. It's very hot inside the car, too; but at least they are sheltered. Laura turns the key in the ignition.

No response. She closes her eyes. Has the heat spoiled the car? She tries again, and this time hears the engine try to turn over. Another try, and the engine starts.

"Check for supplies," Laura instructs the girl as she powers down the windows a little, and turns on the air conditioner. They will need to conserve fuel, but for now the tank needle points to _Full, _and the car is boiling hot. Her daughter needs to be kept cool.

** …**

They make it as far as to the suburbs of Oklahoma City before they reach the next field of cars; an eternal traffic jam. Backing up, Laura is able to cover a little more distance by driving through residential streets. By the evening, the child is exhausted and falls asleep, but Laura decides not to waste the night, and continues as far as they can go. Finally she accepts the next road block, and moves with her daughter to the back seat so she can nap.

The next morning they spend gathering supplies from the houses nearby. They find two back packs, and stuff them full of canned goods, scavenged clothing, personal hygiene supplies and make-shift shelter materials. Laura leads her daughter upstairs and turns on the water in the bathtub, filling buckets. She heats the water over a fire she has made in the living room, then proceeds to give her daughter the first proper bath she has ever received. She uses the water herself afterward, and by the time they are drying themselves off with fluffy towels, they are both pink from scrubbing, and their hair is curly with dampness. After changing into fresh clothes, they head downstairs and have another snack. Then they wait for nightfall, sleeping on a flower print sofa.

When they set out once again in the evening, the child seems refreshed, as is Laura.

"Mum? Tell me more about you and dad," she says, her voice eager.

Laura smiles. "What should you say?" she reminds her.

"_Please,_" her daughter adds.

**...**

_Memory sequence 4  
>Alcatraz Island<br>San Fransisco, California  
>Six years ago<br>12:14 September 2_

"You can't be serious," Emma Frost says, barring the entrance of the jet with her arm and staring at Julian with clear, bottomless blue eyes.

"I am," Julian says.

Laura doesn't know what to say. The decision does not seem to be in her hands.

"I will not allow this," Emma says. "She is _not_coming."

"I'm vouching for her," Julian replies. "Just like Cyclops did, for you. Remember?"

"This is a completely different matter!" Emma's voice rises, and her cheeks are redder. "I was not a _serial killer! _Ms. Kinney here has no concept of morality...not a whisper of a conscience."

"I find it funny that you would lecture anyone about morality," Julian says. "Besides, that's all in the past now. She's turned over a new leaf...you don't know Laura like I do. She's a piece of pie."

He puts his arm around Laura and gives Emma Frost a confident, easy grin. She senses Emma becoming more receptive, albeit unwillingly.

"Your stance on this situation is absurd, Julian," Emma says. "Your perspective of Laura is based solely on attraction, and responsibility. You can't say a single thing for the strength of her character."

Julian shrugs. "If you doubt me...take a look in my mind."

Emma raises her eyebrow, closes her eyes.

"What's the hold-up?" Cyclops asks, from behind. "I already said-"

"Wait, Scott," Emma says. She holds up her hand. "If that's what you feel. But you will be held _personally responsible _for everything she does. _And _she will be confined for a month. She will offer the telepaths no resistance, and will share all of her Brotherhood intelligence. Is that clear?"

Laura feels her voice about to speak out, but Julian beats her to the punch. "Crystal," he says.

Emma steps aside.

"I didn't-" Cyclops says.

"Darling, I'll explain later," Emma says, putting her hand on his arm. "Let's get this bird in the sky."

Julian turns to his companion. "Did I tell you, or didn't I?"

Laura still doesn't know what to say. He leads her to the back of the plane and leaves her in an empty seat to ponder her new precarious situation.

As the jet takes off, Toad coughs up blood, and Jubilee appears in the courtyard, hearing him.

**…**

_Memory sequence 5  
>X-men base, location unknown<br>Six years ago  
>06:51 September 3<em>

Laura awakes slowly, staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling that is only a few feet away from her face. She gradually comes to realize that it is the bottom of a bunk bed, and she is on the ground level mattress-where she'd fallen asleep last night.

She is alone in the room, in solitary confinement. Sitting up, she rubs her eye and focuses on the glass walls around her. No one is present. The paper of her gown rustles. She'd been subjected to MRI's, X-rays, and mental scrutiny last night, upon her arrival-to ensure that she wasn't concealing some sort of tracking device. Laura was almost surprised that they had let her keep the baby.

If Laura closes her eyes, she can pretend she's back in her cell at the facility.

About a half hour later, there is the whir of a motor-the doors opening down the hall. Then footsteps approach her containment cell, and she sees a girl carrying a tray of food through the clear wall. She has brown, bouncy, wavy hair, and freckles, along with a wide but pleasant smile.

"How are you liking it here?" the girl asks through the sound filter, sympathetically.

"Not well," Laura says stiffly. She'd had difficulty staying still for the tests.

"I bet." Without warning, the girl, still holding the tray, begins to...step through the wall, like she is a ghost. Laura 's breath catches and she stares unabashedly as the girl solidifies on her side of the apparent Plexiglas.

"My name's Kitty," the girl says.

Laura is silent.

"That's my power," the girl says, with a grin. "I can-"

"Phase shift. You're Shadowcat." Laura finishes for her.

"_Someone's_been reading intel files," Kitty says, setting the tray down on a table near the bed. "They sent me because you can't hurt me if I stay ghosty. And I go ghosty on reflex. Here, have something...you must be starving. You're eating for two, you know." The girl smiles encouragingly.

"I am aware." Laura eyes the tray warily.

"The food is completely safe. My phasing only hurts machines." Kitty looks mildly insulted.

After a few moments, Laura realizes that she is hungry enough to risk eating the food in question, so she moves over to the table and sits on the stool that is attached to the floor. She picks up a piece of toast.

Kitty beams. "So _you're _the girl that has Julian's heart a-flutter," she says. "I didn't think it was possible, really. That guy lives to drop corny one-liners...and the weirdest thing is they usually work. He tried it on me once, but I'm not his type and he sure isn't mine." She's slid onto the empty stool opposite Laura.

"Mmm," Laura says, around a mouthful of toast.

"He hasn't said much, but I could see it in his eyes. He just stopped being interested in the girls around here, all of a sudden. And I can see why...you're positively gorgeous."

Laura swallows, uncertain of what to say. She doesn't want to keep talking about this. "You have not seen my records?"

Kitty nods. "We've got plenty of people who did some bad stuff in the past. To us...that doesn't matter. It's what you feel _now. _Maybe you can't redeem yourself, no matter what you do...but you sure can try, right?" She smiles. "You'll find most of us pretty accepting."

"Cyclops did not want me."

"He let you in, didn't he?" Kitty points out.

Laura is considering this when the doors down the hall open again. Both women turn their head to look, and Kitty grins as she recognizes the aforementioned Julian. He stops outside the cell door.

"You're not supposed to be in there," he scolds Kitty.

"She looked lonely."

"I'm sure, but that's not a good enough reason to disobey a direct order."

Kitty stands up. "I'll phase you in if you don't tell on me."

"Deal," he says, reaching towards the wall. Before Laura can blink, Julian has grasped the woman's hand, turned see-through, and stepped through the solid material.

"_Urrr _I hate that feeling," he says, letting go as soon as he's through. "You make me feel like I'm being stung by a million mosquitoes, Kitty."

"Jeez, '_thanks_' would have done it," his teammate replies.

"Yeah, that too." Julian looks at the woman sitting at the table. "Hey," he says.

"Hello." Laura studies her plate sullenly. She's angry at him for ignoring her wishes regarding the tests, and for silencing her comments about the situation.

Silence.

"I'll leave you two alone," Kitty says, stepping through the wall once more. "Thirty minutes enough? I can always distract Hank...he has the attention span of a three-year-old when I mention gadgets."

"Should do it," Julian says. "Thanks."

Kitty waves. A few seconds later the door _whirrs _closed behind her, and silence fills Laura's prison chamber. Julian takes the empty seat across from her, and she can feel him staring.

"Hello," Laura mumbles finally.

"Hey yourself," he says. A little while passes, then he adds: "How are they treating you?"

"Fine," Laura says.

"I haven't seen you for a while. Or talked to you."

"It has only been twenty-three days since our last encounter."

"Twenty three days too long. And our last 'encounter' doesn't count." An edge has crept into his voice. "You're perfect, Laura...but god, I could have shaken you till your bones rattled."

Laura says nothing.

"I've come to figure out where we stand," he says, leaning back in his chair. "What would _you_call this?"

" 'This'?" Laura parrots.

"This. Us."

Laura is uncertain. Julian grins, confusing her. Shouldn't her lack of an answer disappoint him? The more she rebukes him, and pushes him away, the more he seems to enjoy himself. He apparently finds her to be a challenge.

"I don't know."

"And the kid?" he asks.

"What about it?" Laura asks.

"Shouldn't we be setting it a good example?" He leans forward. "You know, seeing its parents together and all that good stuff."

"I highly doubt that either of us would be a 'good example' to this offspring," Laura says.

Julian grins again. "Probably not…but we can try."

"No." Laura takes a breath. "Anyone could be the father," she says.

"Except you said it was mine."

"I mean that the fact that the child is related to you through bloodlines has no special bearing on our situation whatsoever." Laura regards him calmly. "I will do as you say, for now, in order to ensure the safety of my child. But I will remain emotionally uninvolved."

"Why?"

The question catches Laura off guard.

"Emotions complicate matters. People die, and leave empty spaces." She gives him a hard look. "I will never put myself in such a position."

"You can't be afraid to care, Laura," he says. "That's absurd."

"Is it?" she snaps.

Julian pauses. "Don't block yourself off, over a few bad experiences. You'll hurt yourself even more that way. You'll still care, no matter how well you've convinced yourself."

Laura pales slightly and opens her mouth, but hears the _whirr _of the door, and Kitty's voice fills the hallway. "Hey, I have to get you out now...Cyclops is coming to see her."


	6. Chapter 6

****__**ANNOUNCEMENT: **_Two new stories-_Like a Boss: Tainted Love_ and _We're in This Together Now,_along with the update wave! Enjoy! :o)_****

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Now.<strong>_

__"You didn't care about dad?" the child asks.

"No." Laura looks at the extinguished kerosene lantern. They have stopped for the day, the light of morning hissing on their aluminum sheet shelter. Beads of sweat are forming on her forehead, and she blinks often to clear the grit and salt out of her brilliant green eyes. "I loved your father very much. I was not ready to…display this affection, at the time."

"Why?" the girl asks. Her concept of love is still childlike; she doesn't understand the difference in love between partners and love between friends, or a mother and her child. However, she still understands the basic principle.

Laura pauses. This is difficult. "When I was small…as old as you…I began to learn that emotions can be dangerous. Showing emotions…is a display of vulnerability." She sniffs. "That is how people can hurt you."

"Someone hurt you, mom?"

"Yes." Laura strokes her daughter's already dirty hair. "I loved my first teacher…my sensei. He treated me with dignity and respect…and others saw this, the others who made me." The girl is familiar with some basic ideas of her past. "I was made to kill him, when I was six years old."

The child does not react.

"When I was thirteen, they made me kill my mother, Sarah."

"Why?" the girl asks.

"To remind me of what I was. To punish me for trying to escape the facility." She frowns. "And when I was fourteen, I was forced to kill my cousin, Megan, and my aunt Debbie. For the same reasons. And this is why I did not want to display emotion. Even though I was not with the facility anymore…I felt that anyone I showed care for would soon die."

"I won't die, mom…I promise," the child says seriously.

"Nothing is guaranteed." Laura reprimands. "Do not make promises you cannot keep." She pauses. "I hope you will not die."

"I won't."

Nothing more is spoken that day, as the girl falls asleep, and Laura sits, lost in thought.

**…**

That night as they walk, the girl chatters about all the pretty houses they had seen in Oklahoma City. It puzzles Laura that—at times—her daughter can be so deeply affected by death, and yet at others, she can almost ignore it, to see the beauty in other things.

"I wish we could have baths more often," the child says. "That was really nice. When can we do that again, mum?"

"We need to reach Texas, as soon as possible," Laura says. "Once we have gone South, things may be different. If so, we will bathe more often, and have better food."

"I can't wait," her daughter says wistfully. "I hope there are more people there."

"Me too." Laura sticks her thumb into the strap of her large back pack.

"How far to Texas?"

"We are about one hundred and ten miles away from the state border. It will take us approximately three days to reach it, at this pace. Then we will need to locate an aircraft base, most probably in Dallas…another two days."

"That seems like forever," her daughter says.

"Be patient." Laura looks at the girl, and smiles. "Do you want to hear more of my memories?"

**...**

_Memory sequence 6  
>X-men base, location unknown<br>Six years ago  
>10:22 October 13<em>

Laura looks up from where she lies on the cot, reading a book. She has just heard the door at the end of the hallway open, and there are voices; Julian, and Cyclops. She also detects the presence of Emma Frost. Their footsteps echo in the hallway as they walk towards her cell.

She watches as they approach. Cyclops reaches to the side and presses his bare hand against the security pad; the door opens smoothly, and the three file in.

"Hello, Laura," Cyclops says.

"Scott," she says in return. Her eyes switch to Julian, who grins back. He's been visiting her a few times per week, and each time he seems a little less distant with her.

"Your intel proved to be good," Cyclops says. "We arrested Sabretooth yesterday. And now, your time is up…so I guess we have to let you go."

"Don't make us regret this," Emma warns.

"She won't." Julian moves towards her and sits down on the edge of the bed. "I think she wants what's best for her kid…and nothing runs deeper than blood."

Laura nods slightly.

"Well, let's get you settled with lodgings…and a uniform," Scott says. "And some duties. You'll have to pitch in…but we won't overwork you, seeing as your condition is delicate."

"Wait, can she stay with me?" Julian asks. "I never got a new roommate after…" he trails off, and Laura feels certain that the person had been killed.

Cyclops frowns. "But you're in the Men's dorm."

"Maybe it would be better if he keeps an eye on her," Emma says.

The leader considers this.

"Don't let her be a distraction," he warns.

"No, sir," Julian says.

**…**

Laura looks around the room as she enters it, a stack of clothes and a towel in her arms. The space is not large, and there are two twin beds against either wall; everything is neat and clean. There is also a dresser, and a small desk with a chair in each of the right-hand corners, the door being on the left. Lastly, there is a closet at the end of the room.

"Here." Julian pushes her aside gently, takes the clothing from her, and heads over to the dresser. He pulls open a drawer and begins to sort some items into it. "I'll get you more stuff soon."

"You do not need to," Laura says, standing in place.

"I want to." He opens another drawer. "Half of the closet is empty anyways."

After a moment, she moves further into the room. "Which bed is mine?"

"I sleep on the left," he says. "I can get us a bigger bed, too. That is…" he pauses and looks at her again, expectantly. "Did you think about what I said?"

Laura looks down. "You are trying to force me to violate my personal beliefs."

"Not intentionally." He closes the drawer, then moves towards her. Putting his hand on her chin, he guides it up. "I mean everything I say to you. I think you're amazing, and perfect, and I'd do anything to be your man. But if I'm forcing you to do something you really, absolutely don't want…then don't do it."

She hesitates. "I don't know. My experiences with emotional connections…are not good. I am used to losing those I care for, and have come to expect it." Laura meets his eyes. "I do not want you to die."

"I won't," he reassures her. "I'm right here." He grins slightly. "I might die if you don't let me touch you, though. Blue balls can be fatal."

"That is preposterous. Thrombosis of the testicles only occurs with trauma." She does smile slightly, though, and Julian feels rewarded.

"I'll take care of you…and the kid. I won't let anything happen to either of you." He pauses. "Do you know what gender it is yet?"

"No." Laura looks down. "Magneto…did not let me see a physician. He told me my mutation would provide for my needs."

"I'm going to punch him in the face, I really am," Julian says. "What a douche bag. Well…Hank said you're doing okay. We could ask him to hook us up with someone who can check the kid out."

"Doctors are expensive," Laura says uncertainly.

"Please. I wipe my ass on hundred-dollar bills." He puts his hands on her shoulders. "Nothing is more important to me than you, okay? I'll give you whatever you need. Just tell me."

Laura hesitates. She is not used to asking others to do things. She is normally self sufficient in every regard, and to acknowledge she has requirements is something she's never done before.

"My back hurts," she says finally.

"Lie down," he says, and minutes later, she discovers the wonders of the back rub.

**…**

_Memory sequence 6  
>X-men base, location unknown<br>Six years ago  
>08:11 October 15<em>

Laura sits at a long steel table, between Julian and Emma Frost; at the ends are Scott and Hank; and directly across from her, Kitty, and a mutant she does not want to acknowledge: Wolverine. Weapon X. The man she was cloned from. Upon seeing her enter the room, he had begun an uproar of protest that had only stopped when Scott had cut him off.

"What do you think the Brotherhood's long-term plans are?" Scott is asking her.

She closes her eyes.

"Magneto's people are incompetent. I believe he is using them as a distraction, while he works on another project. I do not know what this is, nor have I heard any rumors; it is an intuition."

Emma taps her pencil on the table; Wolverine grunts and leans back in his chair, his arms folded as he glares at her.

"Can't smell a lie…but I don't trust her," he says. "It's just an intuition."

"I believe her," Julian says.

"You _would,_" Emma says.

"Everyone, cut it out." Scott looks at Wolverine. "Just say if it's the truth or not, Logan. No commentary, please."

"Hrumpf." Wolverine looks down at the table.

"What could Magneto be building?" Kitty asks.

"What _couldn't_ he be building?" Julian counters. "He has a lot of powerful people working for his side. Forge. Mr. Sinister. Hank's clone."

"Yes," Laura says.

"Maybe I'll send Rogue on an information sweep," Scott says. "We could load her up with Emma's powers…she can erase memories of her presence, and bypass any mental blocks Magneto's associates may have in place."

He leans back in his chair.

"Should send some firepower with her," Wolverine says. "Send X. Make her work for her keep."

All eyes turn towards Laura.

"I will do it," she says.

"No, I will," Julian says. "She's not going back there. Magneto will _kill_ her."

"Hellion…you were warned not to let her become a distraction," Emma says.

"I'm not thinking about her alone. Laura can take care of herself." He casts her a glance. "But if she dies…so does the kid."

"You can go with her, then…and make sure that doesn't happen," Scott says. "But I agree with Logan. X-23 has valuable information about the Brotherhood. Some of the lower associates may not even know of her defection. She could be the way in."

Julian looks uneasy, but says no more.

**…**

"I can't _believe _this!" He says, outside the room, as they return to the quarters they now share.

"It is alright," Laura says, in a tired manner. "They do not trust me. I understand."

"I _don't. _They've never shown this much mistrust to any of our other recruits."

"The other recruits are not as…important." Laura stops. "I was one of Magneto's most important officers. The move I have made would be the ultimate infiltration. It is made worse by my automatic psychic defenses. No one can verify if I am truly on your side."

"_I _know you are," Julian says.

She gives him a searching look. "Why do you trust me so willingly?"

"Because I… I just look at you…and I know." He takes her hands. "I've never trusted anyone as much as I trust you. I don't know why."

Laura swallows slightly, her mouth going dry. Somehow these words mean a lot to her, perhaps because she herself has never felt trust in anyone but herself—and not even that, sometimes.

"I trust you, too." She smiles slightly; he leans forward and kisses her.

"No one else matters, then," he says when they part.

Laura considers this. "No."


End file.
